


your eyes are blocking my starlight

by mercurybard



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-11
Updated: 2011-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-17 22:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercurybard/pseuds/mercurybard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So…fencing (post-film)</p>
            </blockquote>





	your eyes are blocking my starlight

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Star Trek isn't mine. Title from the Fall Out Boy song "West Coast Smoker"

“So…fencing,” Kirk said as he slid onto the chair across from Sulu. “Not such a pussy sport as I expected.”

Hikaru just blinked. Between the near-hypnotic throbbing of the bass (amplified by the subtle pulsing of the lights), the amount of saki he’d put away, and the sheer absurdness of James T. Kirk, his brain was operating at a few warp factors below optimum. “Captain?”

Kirk wagged his finger at Sulu, the remainder of his vibrantly-colored drink spilling over his wrist and onto the table. “Not captain.” Looking down at the sticky liquid turning the back of his hand yellow, he frowned as if he wasn’t sure how it got there. “They relieved me of duty when Pike woke up. So I’m back to being a cadet on academic probation—you rank me.”

There was definitely mischief in his eyes as he lifted his hand and licked the back of it, even Sulu’s addled brain could see that. The sticky part of his hand turned bright red where his tongue touched it.

“What the hell are you drinking?”

“Cardassian Sunrise,” Kirk said and made a face. “I have no idea why Uhura drinks these things.”

“It looks sweet.”

“You’d think, but no. Here, try it,” he said, holding out his hand.

Hikaru eyed it warily. “You want me to lick your wrist?”

“You could lick the table, but I think I’m slightly more hygienic.”

That teased a smile out of him, and Kirk’s own grin cranked up a notch or two. Sulu’s stomach did a little roll that had nothing to do with too much rice wine. “Just slightly.”

“Hey, give me some credit—I could’ve cut straight to the part where I say ‘why don’t we go back to your quarters and you can show me your sword?’”

“And what if I took you literally?” Hikaru asked, leaning in closer.

“Then I’d be very disappointed, lieutenant, after what we went through—nearly plummeting to our deaths in each others’ arms. I’d call that a Moment.”

Cocky bastard, but that wasn’t anything Sulu hadn’t known walking in the door. He rolled his empty glass between his palms. Hell, it was part of Kirk's charm.

And he was right about the rank thing. Everybody’s lives had been put on hold while Starfleet sorted out how a ship full of half-trained cadets managed to save the planet. Sulu had been all but guaranteed a place at the Enterprise’s helm, but Kirk didn’t have that kind of surety. He, more than anyone else, was in limbo. Unfair on a cosmic level, but the universe, Hikaru had learned, was chronically unfair. He hated seeing his captain—yes, captain, even if they took the braid away before Kirk ever got the chance to officially wear it—on such shaky ground. “And what if I took you figuratively?”

That grin was practically blinding now. “Then, lieutenant, I’d say ‘my quarters or yours’?”

Sulu laughed. “I’ve always wondered what a Cardassian Sunrise tastes like.”


End file.
